


like the sun grounds you

by aspartaeme



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Season/Series 03, Steve has an existential crisis, billy has freckles, robin is the voice of reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 00:10:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20461817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspartaeme/pseuds/aspartaeme
Summary: It's been uncharacteristically sunny for this particular time of year in Hawkins, and.And Hargrove looks like he has beendevouringthe few sun rays that deigned to make an appearance at their part of the world, making his skin glow golden, almost the way it was during those first few weeks after he arrived.It's - all kinds of distracting, really.





	like the sun grounds you

It starts with a fight, the way most things between them seem to. It's the beginning of April, and graduation is looming over Steve like the pendulum of death, and he's been scooping ice cream at Scoops Ahoy for the past three weeks now, because what else is he going to do with his life, _and _he hasn't been sleeping _at all_, lately, and. 

It's been uncharacteristically sunny for this particular time of year in Hawkins, and. 

And Hargrove looks like he has been _devouring _the few sun rays that deigned to make an appearance at their part of the world, making his skin glow golden, almost the way it was during those first few weeks after he arrived. 

It's - all kinds of distracting, really. 

Which, on top of everything else, explains his current predicament. 

Hargrove is, unsurprisingly, all up in his space during basketball practice, angry about a shot Steve lost, because _can you stop being such an airhead for just one second and keep your head in the game Harrington, jesus, it's really _not _that difficult, _and Steve isn't really listening to him, tries really hard not to pay Billy any more attention than absolutely necessary anymore, and then - 

His eyes just. Zero in on Billy's nose, because looking into his eyes kinda makes something _flutter _in his lower stomach, which is a recent and _extremely _unwanted development, Billy's nose _who is speckled with a cluster of freckles, _which is _definitely _a recent and _tragically _unhelpful development, and he just. Reaches his breaking point. 

He raises his hands, watching like it's happening to someone else, like he's outside of himself, like the sight of Billy's freckled nose somehow made him _lose control, _and slowly, but surely, drops his arms on Billy's shoulders, right to the point where his (solid, _so solid) _sternum starts meeting his (muscled, infuriatingly muscled) arms. Like he's planning on _hugging _him, drawing him _near_, or something. Like they're - close, familiar, anything _but _what they are, which is. Nothing. Just two classmates having a row in the middle of a basketball match. Nothing _but _that. 

Not his proudest moment, if someone asks. 

He _does_ manage to save himself from the world's most awkward situation, one he created _all on his own, _by snapping out of this freckle-induced trance he found himself into and _pushing, _pretending like _that's _what he intended to do in the first place, like he just wanted to put some distance between them, because, for the life of him, he has no idea _what _he was trying to do. So he pushes Billy back, but not before he can register the look in his eyes, full of something Steve would never dare call want, the way Billy's eyes roam over his face, pausing on his mouth, the way he seems to sway closer to Steve, like he can't help it, _moth to a flame, _and that. 

That's something Steve can work with. 

* * *

He is currently slumped over Scoops’ counter, sighing loudly, trying to keep his mind off _Billy's freckles_, because that's his life now, failing miserably, annoying Robin in the process. 

The weather’s still cold enough to deter possible ice cream enthusiasts, so the business is slow, which is decidedly unhelpful when one is trying to keep one’s mind off _things. _

Robin’s been sitting on the counter, reading a book and actively ignoring him, which only serves to make his whining even more intense and push him further into despair. 

“Freckles, Robin! He has freckles now!” 

Robin stays maddeningly unperturbed. “Does he?” 

Steve takes it as the invitation it obviously isn't. 

“It's not even summer yet! Like, _who _gets freckles in April in Indiana? Like, who does he think he _is_?” 

Robin hasn't even taken her eyes off her stupid book. 

Steve carries on, like, “it's almost like he does it on purpose, gets up in my face all freckled and tanned like his _only_ goal in life is to _annoy_ me.” 

Robin raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Seems to me he’s succeeding.” 

Steve falters. Gapes at her, ready to protest, but before he manages to accuse her of utmost betrayal, remind her she’s _his _best friend, she cuts him off. 

Says, in an uninterested voice, like she isn't about to turn his life upside down, “it's not _like _he does it on purpose, dingus, it's _exactly _that. He's just pulling your pigtails, trying to get as close to you in a - ” she raises her fingers, draws air quotes, drops her voice down an octave, “ - very manly, totally straight, definitely not flirty way.” 

Steve lets out a whining sound, one he would absolutely, wholeheartedly deny having produced, says petulantly, “you don't even know who I'm talking about.” 

Robin heaves a long-suffering sigh, _finally _puts her book down, directs this _look _at him, the one that says _I always do, _that says _you're the clueless one here, Stevie, _that also says _I'm always here to help you figure it out, _and Steve knows better than to face her next words unbraced. He closes his eyes, waits for the inevitable final nail on his coffin of denial. 

Robin says, “dingus, you've been rambling about his stupid freckles for the last three hours, and before that you were analyzing one very specific look he gave you, and the week before you were flustered over a book he let you borrow. I think it's about time you stopped talking to _me _about him and went to the source of the problem himself.” 

Steve kinda hates her, and she is also the best friend he ever had, and he maybe, _definitely_ doesn't know what he would do without her. 

* * *

After Robin’s illuminating, mind-boggling monologue, Steve goes home and does what he's best at. 

He gets on full-on panic mode. 

He replays every interaction he's had with Billy after _the fight_, after his half-muttered apology, after the proverbial dust had settled between them. He goes forwards and backwards, taking apart every lingering look, every seemingly innocuous touch, every compliment uttered under the guise of an insult. 

Thinks how examining everything in comparison to his own actions, the looks he steals, the physical closeness he finds himself initiating more and more, puts everything Billy does in a very clear, undeniable perspective. 

Then he panics some more. 

* * *

He manages to avoid Billy for three solid school days, which is a task by itself, given Billy's propensity for being _everywhere, all the time. _He refuses to acknowledge the inquiring looks directed at him, changes direction every time he sees his golden mane at close proximity, even goes as far as to park his car outside the high school parking lot, to avoid a meeting he is absolutely _not _prepared for. 

He knows his time is up by the end of the third day, which is followed by basketball practice. 

To his credit, he only has two almost-breakdowns before the final bell condemns him to his fate, a fact that, when relayed to Robin, results in an almost full-body eye roll. If he wasn't so preoccupied with keeping his panic at bay, he would probably be concerned for her eyesight. 

Turns out, he spent all day working himself up for nothing, because Billy blatantly _ignores _him. He doesn't tackle him, or corner him, or get all up in his space, or even _look _at him. Steve is experiencing ten kinds of whiplash, laced with a feeling of confusion and something that feels treacherously close to disappointment. 

By the end of practice, Steve is more frustrated than before, and Billy's choice to pick a shower as far away from his as possible only furthers his need to speed to his blissfully empty house and scream into his pillow. Maybe then something will make sense again, the way it did three days ago in his head. 

He should've known not to think he can predict Billy's actions by now. 

They end up being the last ones in the locker room, because that's his luck, getting him stuck half-naked in a restricted space with the boy he maybe, possibly, potentially have feelings for, feelings one hour ago he believed to be reciprocated, trying to ignore the way said boy hops - hops! - into his jeans, feet still wet from the shower, struggling not to find the display before him cute, realizing it's a lost cause anyway. 

He turns his back to Billy, who apparently at some point turned into someone he can trust enough to do so to, to compose himself, get dressed, leave, have a crying session at the privacy of his house. 

And then two strong hands are gripping his waist, turning him around, and Steve has the time to think about how they are the only ones left here, it _must _be Billy, and then he's helplessly looking into those blue _blue _eyes, wanting, _needing_ to look away, finding solace on Billy's stupid, cute, freckled nose. 

Billy's mouth is moving before Steve can register everything that's going on, says, _why are you avoiding me, Harrington_, says, _what's wrong_, and then he stops talking altogether, starts moving closer, slowly, like Steve is scared, or like _Billy _is, and Steve looks at him, and he says, stupidly, _you got freckles now. _Like a moron. Because apparently his mind is a broken record forced to repeat that statement until it lands. 

And boy does it land. 

Billy stops moving, gets this disturbed look on his face, furrows his eyebrows. Starts moving backwards, away from Steve, like his statement made Billy wake up, think that this has all been one great miscalculation, like he's overstepped some invisible boundary and he needs to back away, _now. _

And Steve can_not_ let that happen, cannot let Billy be the dumb one in this, that's _his _role, like, that's what he's _best at, _apart from panicking, so. 

So he takes one, two, three steps forward, crowds into Billy, who is by now standing with his back at the lockers, like that’s the only thing that keeps him from running away, grabs his face as fiercely as he thinks will get his point across, crashes their lips together. 

Not his masterpiece, as far as kisses go. There are teeth, and gasps, and half-uttered laughs, and it's _perfect. _

It's perfect. 

And really, he must be having some kind of epiphany, because he decides that if this frankly terrible excuse of a kiss feels as good as it does, as _right _as it does, then maybe he should try kissing Billy properly, like he knows they both know how. 

So he pulls back, ignores Billy's whine of protest, something he _will _use against him later, takes a breath, dives back in. Gives Billy all he's got, kissing him like he's dreamed of for months, really, and isn't that a dawning realization. So he figures he owes it to himself to try and give Billy the perfect kiss. 

One of his best decisions, judging by the steady moans slipping through Billy's lips, and Steve can't help but agree, moan back in response, open his eyes just to catch a glimpse of Billy's nose and his freckles up close, like he wanted to do for _ages _seems like. And Billy, being Billy, of course catches on to what Steve's looking at, pulls back, all breathless and golden and _beautiful, _and Steve may already be a little bit in love, and then Billy grins at him, lazily, bites his red-kissed lips, says,_ if I knew freckles is what does it for you I would've fucking _painted _some on me back in December, _and Steve can't help it, laughs, easier than he has in a long while, can't hold back a whispered you're _what does it for me, the freckles are an added bonus, _decides it's worth it just for the blush across Billy's cheeks, his nose, his galaxy of freckles. 

Billy is the one who steps back this time, gives him a look full of promise, like a less covert variation of all the looks he's been giving him since the beginning, and - 

“You know, Harrington, my nose isn't the _only_ freckled part of my body.” 

* * *

It usually takes seventeen minutes from the high school parking lot to Steve's house. They make it in nine. 

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from alt-j's _every other freckle_, for obvious reasons
> 
> i have a [tumblr](https://aspartaeme.tumblr.com/), come say hi!


End file.
